


Christmas Treats

by Hotchoqlit (iminyjo)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 11:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iminyjo/pseuds/Hotchoqlit
Summary: The Christmas exploits of two next-door neighbors making a love connection...





	1. The Grinch

**Author's Note:**

> Making her ten-year-old son happy is all widow Michonne Hill wanted for Christmas. But with only two days left, she's feeling less than inspired. Enter her smokin' hot next-door neighbor Rick Grimes...who has a plan to get her into the holiday spirit! Day 8 in the 2017 Richonne Just Desserts *25 Days of Richonne* project.

_Maybe André's little friends were right after all. Maybe she was a Grinch. 'Cuz God knew she hated everything about this..._

Michonne Hill took a step back from the chaos and gazed upon four hours of intense effort.

As night fell in earnest, the scope of it all became apparent. ..._And in all honesty, it was atrocious._ It looked as if drunk Christmas Elves had thrown up on her stoop. But it was bright and could compete with the resident Mr. Christmas, her next-door neighbor Rick Grimes. A widower, Rick took it upon himself to make a ridiculously elaborate Christmas display every year that thrilled not only his two kids but children far and wide, who would come with their parents on Christmas Eve night just to ogle at his efforts. Michonne didn't aspire to that at all, although her husband Mike had, once upon a time. She just didn't want her place to be a source of any more embarrassment for her son.

Just then, as if she had called him into being, while she stood pondering where to put a particularly obnoxious blinking Rudolf decal, Rick's front door opened. It took all the strength she possessed for Michonne to pretend she didn't notice him standing there. He bent over to pick up the Evening edition of the newspaper tossed up on his top step. From where she stood, she could see he was wearing a thin, grey thermal shirt that pulled tightly over his firm chest and blue jeans with no socks. He wrapped his arms around himself for a moment clutching his paper and looked around until he spotted her there.

Michonne shivered. And for one second, she was unsure if it was the frigid temperature or her hot neighbor that brought it on.

It had taken a while before she'd even been willing to acknowledge she had a little bit of a crush on the man. She had been certain all that equipment had broken–like her heart...and other parts–when Mike died. But sure enough, in recent months, every time she saw this guy all those old dusty, rusty parts purred back to life...to her chagrin. _Who could blame her?_ Rick was a man's man, who coached his son's baseball team in the summer but also a sensitive soul who had walked through the whole neighborhood in a pair of fairy wings to appease his daughter for Halloween. Playing both mother and father to his kids since his wife's passing six years earlier in childbirth, Michonne had always admired him, even before Mike died. Still, more recently, whenever Michonne saw him, she instantly grew flustered.

Rick caught her eye then and waved. Michonne paused before waving back as if she'd just noticed him standing there. He stepped out of his loudly decorated home at that moment, moved to the edge of his steps and peered over his railing at Michonne's handiwork.

"Nice," He called out, giving her the 'okay' sign with his thumb and forefinger.

Michonne pulled the flashing decal to her chest and bowed slightly to acknowledge him and his approval.

_She bowed?! God, she was such a dork when she was smitten._

She covered her face for a moment in embarrassment. Then after a minute of pure mortification, Michonne was able to pull her eyes up from her palm. She looked back at her efforts then him as he turned and retreated back into his–no doubt toasty warm–house, closing the door behind him. Michonne was relieved.

It was hard to think with his eyes on her. _That was the other thing she'd notice lately._ She caught him looking more often now. Once upon a time, it had been a firm neighborly nod before both of them kept it moving. But recently, Michonne wasn't sure she didn't see long lingering looks. She knew for a fact her eyes were lingering at least. She was also certain there'd been a distinct uptick this season in his stopping by to return tools he'd borrowed from Mike years ago or borrowing sugar or milk for Christmas cookies and his grandma's special eggnog recipe.

_Or maybe that was just her imagination._

She cocked her head left and right trying to mentally tackle the conundrum of her orphaned red-nosed reindeer. There wasn't really a free space on her entire façade below the second floor that wasn't covered in some travesty she'd found at the hardware store. A rosy-cheeked Mr. and Mrs. Claus peered back at her from the windows, Penguins in winter hats lined her steps, a doe and buck made of wire and white lights stood right by her front gate. Twinkling snowflakes lined her front door and the two front-facing bay windows of her parlor. Behind Santa and the missus, Michonne could see Sasha and her husband Abe laughing with André and their daughter Miranda as they all strung a string of cranberry and popcorn garland around the tree inside.

Just two years ago, that had been her and Mike and André together. Michonne's eyes brimmed with tears. She turned away from her busily decorated brownstone to look at the other buildings on the block. It had been true. Before tonight, her home had stood alone in its sparse decoration. It was obvious, the people inside her house barely knew Christmas existed, to compare her efforts to those of her neighbors.

Everyone else's front stoops looked as if they were actively trying to signal St. Nick from the sky. But hers had looked like, if her son hadn't said anything, she probably wouldn't have even bothered with any of it...at all. His little friends were right, she had become the Grinch. She clutched Rudolph to her chest as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She brushed it roughly away with her gloved hand before it could freeze there in the bitter cold.

"It looks like you might be done," The voice came from behind her.

Michonne turned startled to find Rick Grimes standing right behind her. "Oh!"

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He said warmly and grinned winningly.

"No, not at all," She replied, pulling herself together quickly. She dragged her glove off her hand between her teeth and wiped her face again quickly. _He made her feel so self-conscious._ She pushed her locs back out of her face and pat her cheeks to warm them, returning his smile with one of her own.

"Here," He raised a mug up into the space between them. Michonne looked down at it confused. Not only by the steaming cup of what looked like hot cocoa but also by his gloveless hands.

In fact, he wasn't wearing anything more than he had been earlier, save a red and white woolen scarf wrapped around his neck and galoshes on his feet for the snow. No coat, no hat, nothing that reflected the weather at all. With his ice blue eyes glittering in the light, he looked like he'd been built for this weather. The chill made him ruddy but hearty-looking instead of cold, and more virile somehow.

_Geez_.

"My God, you're hot," She blurted out before she caught herself then stammered. "Er, I mean, cold. _Not hot_. Cold. I meant, are you hot? That is, are you _not_ cold?"

He smiled and licked his lips before skewering her with a look and grin that suggested he knew _exactly_ what she meant. Still, he just offered up the mug again, raising it higher into her line of sight.

"No. not really," He answered right as she finally accepted it from him with a thank you. "My wife Lori used to say I just 'run hot'."

Michonne didn't doubt it._ Way hot_.

Michonne took a sip from the piping mug. It was delicious hot cocoa, just as she suspected...but with something else. She looked up at him in surprise.

"Grand Marnier." He answered her unasked question. "The other reason I'm hot."

He smiled naughtily as she blushed inwardly at her earlier slip of the tongue. She giggled, the cognac and triple sec concoction already warming her to her core and making her cheeks feel warm.

"So, is this what you and Mike were always doing out here so long?" She asked raising the mug to her lips slowly and feeling suddenly flirtatious.

"Well, as you know, Mike was a Macallan 25 man...but basically," Rick answered before reaching out to Michonne.

She looked down startled by his forwardness before she saw he was actually reaching for the Rudolph she still hugged tightly to her chest. She released it slowly, chuckling at herself and how one errant reindeer had so nearly been her undoing moments earlier.

"I don't know what to do with him."

"Send him back to the North Pole." Rick said easily.

"What?" Michonne said still confused.

"I think you've got enough up."

"_Excuse me?_" Michonne said mildly affronted. She took a pause from imbibing the sweet ambrosia Rick had given her, to give him a sharp look. "I know_ you_ aren't talking to me about 'enough', Mr. Grimes. Not with that Ode to Thomas Edison and the Electric Light Parade you've got going on over there."

Rick snorted.

"You're excused, Ms. Hill." Rick said while switching Rudolph off and shoving him firmly under his arm. "I can tell you don't know, but there's a rhyme and reason to this."

"Is there? 'Cuz I thought it was just to make your first-born-child part of your payment plan to the power company."

"Most of my lights are steady. One or two flash intermittently," He explained carefully and seemingly seriously ignoring her snark. "Michonne, you've got enough blinking, flashing and twinkling lights going on over here to set off some poor sap's Grand Mal seizures! Look, I don't know, you're the lawyer but this seems like a lawsuit waiting to happen. At the very least from the airlines, when their planes crash mistaking your house for signals from air traffic control."

She realized he was teasing her so Michonne smirked but her shoulders fell nonetheless. This is why she'd let Rick and Mike duke it out on their own all these years. She just wasn't cut out for this. And honestly other than her little doe and buck, she hated all of it anyway.

_But this is what André wanted. Right?_

"I hate this." She admitted finally. "Bah-humbug."

"Now, now," Rick chuckled. "All is not lost." He added cheerfully.

"Let me grab Carl and some stuff from my bag of tricks. I have an idea. You go get André."

Michonne reluctantly surrendered the mug with the dregs of Rick's delightful concoction to him and watched his rear-end and broad sloping shoulders appreciatively as he retreated back to his house.

_How much cognac was in that cocoa exactly?_ She wondered as her face warmed even more at the sight of his retreating form.

* * *

"What do you think?" Rick asked later from a lower rung on a ladder parked on her stoop.

"Well, it's certainly bright." Michonne answered, turning her head side-to-side to appreciate it at multiple angles. She stood with a gloved hand on her hip looking at it appraisingly.

"C'mon Mich, it was always gonna be bright." Sasha said standing beside her on the sidewalk. She huddled into her friend for warmth, pulling her small daughter into her knees. Rick's daughter Judith stood on the other side of the smaller girl showing her something in her mittened hands. They whispered together giggling and oblivious to what was happening with the adults around them.

"Is this row straight?" Abraham asked, holding the other end of a string of lights opposite Rick.

"What do you think, baby?" Michonne asked her son.

André looked up mirroring his mother's stance. "I think it's higher on Rick's side."

"No, not that. What do you think of all of this?" Michonne gestured toward the façade of the building to indicate her meaning. All the garish decor that had been up was now replaced by a festival of pure light.

Her son seemed to consider it. "It's not the way dad would have done it."

Michonne's face fell slightly before André's mittened hand slipped into hers. He smiled brightly.

"But this is really you, Mom. _Really us_...now. And it's just as cool."

Michonne pulled her son into her side and planted a big kiss on his forehead below his hat.

"It's perfect, guys." She finally answered Rick's question.

"Thank God. I can't feel my face." Abraham grunted, fastening the string of lights in place and hopping off his precarious perch on the railing.

Rick came down from the ladder. He folded it and with help from his son Carl, he walked it down Michonne's front steps. He paused near her and looked up at their exceptional handiwork. It was a lot simpler than the Christmas-themed crimes against humanity she'd been committing earlier, Michonne was willing to admit. But it was still just as bright..in other words, blinding. Her entire façade was strung with dozens of lights that illuminated the whole house almost like daylight. But there was no denying the inhabitants of _this_ house enjoyed the holiday season..._just more tastefully._

"Huh, it's a little boring for my taste." Rick offered before she tagged him in the side with her elbow. "But I'm just a country boy. I will say though, I agree with André, it's definitely you. Understated but gorgeous."

Michonne was momentarily stunned. "Are you saying I'm boring?"

"No, I'm saying you're gorgeous." Rick retorted easily and they shared a brief but potent look. Michonne suddenly felt as if the temperature outside had just risen by 50 degrees.

"Dad, I'll get this ladder into the garage." Carl offered quickly, clearing his throat and taking the ladder from Rick. "Dré, why don't you help me?"

André nodded and ran behind the teenager. "C'mon, Jude."

The six-year-old waved good-bye to them all and followed behind André.

"I'm pretty sure that's our cue too." Sasha said then from Michonne's other side. She bent and pulled her now-sleepy daughter up onto her hip. "Gotta get these two into bed."

"That's right. It's past my bedtime." Abraham confirmed with a smile though Michonne and Rick were barely listening.

They all exchanged goodnights as Rick stood at Michonne's side at the curb and she saw her friends off. When they were alone on the sidewalk, Michonne looked up at him. The snow flurries swirled between them, seemingly coating the entire block in silence. Small snowflakes clung to his hair and eyelashes. Michonne still couldn't believe he barely had anything on but a light jacket and that scarf.

"Thanks for this. It's festive but doesn't make me feel like I'm going to be motion-sick when I look at it."

"Well, it was my pleasure...to help you not be sick," He said, to which she chuckled, looking down at the new accumulation of snow beneath their feet.

When she looked up again, he was looking down on her and she felt flush under his gaze...at the way she could feel his eyes caressing her face. "Why haven't we ever done this before?" She asked earnestly.

"Decorated a house together?" He answered snarkily. She tagged him in his arm again playfully.

"You know, _this_." She said awkwardly deciding to dispense with the coyness.

"I don't know. I know I've wanted to for a while."

"Really?" Michonne asked astonished.

Rick nodded then shrugged. "I guess I was just waiting for you to get into the spirit, I guess."

He offered her an arm and after a moment she took it amazed by these utterly bizarre turn of events.

They both looked up at the beautiful new face of her building. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw something move over at Rick's house. It was the curtain shade as Carl and André and Judith quickly fell out of the frame of the window. Michonne nudged Rick to look quickly.

"Something suddenly tells me they were too." Rick said after looking to the windows of his home.

"You think the kids will be okay at your house for a minute?" Michonne asked as they headed up her steps arm-in-arm.

"Oh yeah, I gave Carl permission to order a movie and some pizza an hour ago."

"_Oh really?_" Michonne paused on the top step.

"I mean, just in case," It was finally Rick's turn to be slightly flustered. "You know, figured an hour and a half or so might give us a chance to talk as we warmed up a little from the cold."

"Mmm," Michonne concurred wordlessly opening her front door. She was certainly warming up to this idea, at least. "I thought you didn't get cold?"

"Well, I guess for you to warm up... to me, then." Rick answered honestly.

_So much for being a Grinch._ She thought with a sly smile on her face to match Rick's as she held the door open for him to enter behind her.

"Oh, I think I already am."


	2. Holiday Bucket List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharing three holiday seasons with the Christmas-crazy Grimes household has done wonders for Michonne Hill's Christmas Spirit. Still, it's one special Christmas list, where everyone's wishes come true, that might finally help her rediscover the magic of the Season. Day 22 in the 2017 Richonne Just Desserts *25 Days of Richonne* project.

1_. _Visit the Festival of Lights _\- Dr. Dré_

_2\. _ _Watch Elf + Home Alone with the Family _ _\- Carl_

_3\. __Bake Christmas Cookies all day_ _\- Hey Jude_

_4\. Sport an Ugly Christmas Sweater to a Party - Carl_

_5\. See a performance of The Nutcracker - Jude_

_6\. __Deck the Halls – Fa-La- Laaaa!_ _\- Dré_

_7\. __Spread Christmas Cheer by Singing Loud for all to Hear_ _\- Dré_

_8\. __Construct a charming Gingerbread House_ _\- Jude_

_9\. __Become a Professional Wrapper—as in presents_…_\- Carl Poppa_

_10\. Make someone's Christmas Wish Come True - Rick (aka Daddy Claus)_

_11\. _ _Find the Perfect hot Cocoa Recipe. - The 'Rents_

_12\. Spend time with __Family_ _and __Friends_ _\- Michonne (the Notorious M.O.M.)_

"I'm sorry but I didn't ask you over early for you to sit around my kitchen rubbing your big, round buddha belly and dispense advice like Confucius, Mrs. Ford," Michonne Hill said with exasperation. "Could you at least grab the ramekins out of that cupboard for me."

"I'm busy making a person over here. I don't know why you thought you could invite me over and use me as a beast of burden."

Michonne rolled her eyes at her and continued whipping her bowl of creme brulée with the hand-mixer, shaking her head. "You're right, I should have known better. Lazy."

"I'm moral support not 'actual' support," Sasha said hopping down with effort from her stool by Michonne. "You know you don't want me cooking anything. And Abe is only marginally better... on a barbeque. Honestly, I really don't know how that little girl hasn't starved to death with us for parents….What's this?" She asked standing by the refrigerator. "Is this _The List_?"

Michonne turned from the kitchen island to see what her best friend was talking about. She chuckled when she saw what Sasha was pointing at and nodded. Affixed with a magnet to the fridge was their family Christmas List. It had been the kids' idea, to create a so-called "bucket list" of things they could all do as a family over the holiday season. Michonne couldn't help feeling so proud of them. This was Carl's last year of high school and technically his last year at home. For him to have thrown himself so enthusiastically into what he could have easily thought he was too old for warmed her heart

"Yep, that's the infamous list."

"Randa and Judith can't stop talking about it. You know you guys are the talk of the school, right? Making the rest of us look bad. All the cuteness is really getting obnoxious." Sasha brought the stack of mini-ramekins over to Michonne and then eased back up onto the stool across from her. "Even last night at the recital, you, Rick, Carl and André all decked out in those horrible Christmas sweaters! And you're a blended family, for Heaven's sake. Y'all are supposed to be the definition of dysfunctional!"

"Gee, I'm sorry we can't oblige."

Michonne shrugged nonchalantly but smiled to herself facing away from her friend. "But good note, I know to add that to the list for next year. Oh, by the way, do me a favor and cross the sweaters off the list for me. And 'Seeing the Nutcracker' too. Jude really thought she was slick putting that on as one of her picks. It was the only way she could be absolutely sure Carl and André would come watch her be a Sugar Plum fairy."

Sasha laughed. "Why did you guys even decide to do this?"

"Here. Make yourself useful," Michonne handed Sasha a small spoonful of the mixture in the bowl to taste. "Well, it's our last Christmas in this house."

"Mmm," Sasha approved before removing the spoon from her mouth to add, "You guys finally decided? Really? You're actually selling this one?"

Michonne nodded, adding more vanilla extract to the batter after dipping her pinkie into the mixture to taste it herself. "Yeah, it just made the most sense. We can't be next-door neighbors forever. Carl is leaving and at this point, Jude's spent nearly as much time at my house as she can remember spending in this one. I'm doing okay and Andre's college fund has been set for a while from Mike's life insurance money. If he sells this house, Rick can add a little padding to Judith's college fund _and_ give Carl the freedom to go anywhere he wants. We're gonna take whatever's left and finish my basement so Carl has a nice big space when he comes home to visit and Rick and André can have a man-cave when he's at school. Plus, putting in that equity will help Rick feel like it's his house too."

"Smart plan as usual, but I don't think you have to worry about Rick feeling at home. Knowing the guy, I think he'll feel at home wherever you and the kids are."

"I hope s—" Michonne started before she was cut off by Judith and Sasha's daughter tearing into the kitchen. They ran around the island where the women were, screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Miranda Williams-Ford!" Sasha said sternly, halting both girls almost immediately. The smaller girl barreled into the back of the bigger one as they tried unsuccessfully to stop their momentum. They tumbled over themselves landing in a giggling heap at the foot of the kitchen table.

"It was Daddy!" Judith bellowed as both girls pointed and panted out of breath.

Both women turned to the doorway in time to see Rick grind to a halt at the mouth of the kitchen breathing heavily with his hand gripping the doorframe. He wasn't moving but his heaving chest gave lie to his demeanor.

"What?" He asked innocently when he could finally talk.

Michonne struggled not to laugh as the big white pom-pom on the end of the Santa hat he wore swung back and forth by his ear. Between that, his heinous green and red plaid pajama bottoms, and another hideous sweater with a knitted gingerbread man on it, she saw he'd changed into his full "Mr. Christmas" regalia.

"What did we say about running in the kitchen?" She chided the girls gently.

"It's a good way to lose an eye." Rick said at the very same time the girls recited, "We could hurt ourselves."

Michonne rolled her eyes at her ridiculous but also ridiculously cute boyfriend, "That's right girls, you could hurt yourselves."

"You two out. _You_," She pointed at Rick with her spatula, "in."

"What did I do?" Rick asked even as he slid happily into the room and cozied up behind Michonne. Looking over her shoulder at the contents of the mixing bowl. "Oooh, is that your creme brulée cheesecake I like?"

"Yes."

"And are you putting them in these tiny, little pie pan thangs?" He breathed on her neck seductively like the desserts turned him on. "For me?"

"Yes to that, but no, you don't get to eat them all. They're for the guests."

"But mostly for me, right?" He nodded, giving her a suggestive little nudge with his hips below the counter.

Despite the fact that he was behind her, Michonne could tell he was sharing a sly smile with Sasha by the woman's adoring expression. He further attempted to coax an answer out of Michonne by slipping his large hands around her waist to rest on her stomach. She fought the sudden feelings of undue distraction as she apportioned the batter into the ramekins. This was always his way and it always worked. As far as Michonne was concerned, _who needed dessert, when he was such a delicious distraction?_

"Just go check on your mother's ham." Michonne directed him, shooing him off, despite the fact that even after three years together she loved it when he put those excessively warm hands all over her. The man was like a walking, talking personal heater.

"How is it my mother's ham when you're the one cooking it?"

"_My_ mother has a ham recipe, correct? And I do too, _right_? But the ham in question, the one in the oven right now is, at your request, your mother's recipe. Is it not? Then, I rest my case."

"And this is what I get for sharing my life with a lawyer," Rick sighed to Sasha. "But who am I talking to? You're another one. I need to go commiserate with Abe."

"Not before you look at that ham," Michonne said with a smile. He was so damn cute she wondered frequently how she got so lucky.

"And make sure he finished stringing those lights on the banister," Sasha called after Rick once he had checked the oven and was walking out to rejoin the music and riotous cacophony of the rest of the house.

Michonne slipped the tray of desserts into the oven and took up the seat next to Sasha.

"I swear, you guys are like the freekin' Brady Bunch." Sasha said nearly astonished.

"Hardly. You should have been here when André accidentally broke Carl's PS4 controller."

"Whatever. That list is exhibits A through Z. I mean seriously, aside from the people living their best lives in those little pictures that come with the picture frames, who does that? And who gets buy-in from all their kids too? I can't even get Miranda to wear pants most days."

"Truth was, it was their idea," Michonne said before seeing Sasha's point with a guilty smile.

It had been spontaneous and fun and they had all dove in so completely to making sure the list reflected everyone. The kids even insisted Rick and Michonne each contributed their own item and then one as a unit. It was true, she was blessed, as she looked over at the evidence hanging on the fridge written in Judith's crazy, colorful, nine-year-old's script. She couldn't deny it and it felt almost ungrateful to try and remain humble in the face of such good fortune. Michonne had found the love of her life after despairing she'd ever find love of any sort again. Someone who loved her and her kid with all he had. Someone who had the kind of kids it was so easy to love in return. And then to top it all off, he had been just next door all along. Most people had to scour the world looking for their better half. Rick had turned up right in front of her holding a mug of spiked hot chocolate! No one had to tell her her story was unreal.

"Christmas Eve and just one more to go."

"You're telling me, y'all did all the rest of these?" Sasha asked incredulously spinning her chair and stroking her protruding abdomen like the villain's cat in a Bond film.

Michonne nodded with pride. "Yup. We only have Rick's wish left. For that, we're going to go to the children's ward of the hospital tomorrow and give out some Christmas gifts. It's so silly but of course, Rick was going all out with it...as usual. He's decided to go dressed up like Santa. I'm Mrs. Claus and the kids are gonna be elves."

"Like I said, y'all are sickening," Sasha said with a straight face before breaking into a smile. "Okay but the hot cocoa recipe? Rick's hot cocoa is perfection, it's _legendary_."

Michonne leaned forward into the island propping her face up on her elbow. "_Oh yeah_, but we've got something even better now. After a lot of trial and error... if you know what I mean?"

"Oooh hot, boozy nights?" Sasha asked giving Michonne a naughty grin.

"Among other things." Michonne scrunched up her nose suggestively at her friend who squealed appreciatively like they were two teen girls.

"That's it! Abe and I need that recipe…_now_!"

"I think you and Abe are getting along just fine without the hot cocoa." Michonne said snarkily glaring directly at Sasha's stomach while her friend laughed uproariously.

* * *

Michonne heard noises on the stairs coming from the rumpus room in the basement.

"Did you hear that?" Her eyes popped open from where they had been closed, intent on enjoying the feeling of being in Rick's fevered embrace with his mouth on her neck. She tapped on his shoulder urgently. "_Did you hear that_? I think it's the kids. I think they're coming back up."

"So?" Rick whispered back, muffled by the fact that his face was under her sweater.

"_So?_" She repeated attempting to pull herself out of his arms and straighten her clothes simultaneously. "What time is it?"

To Michonne's momentary sadness, Rick actually relented, letting her go. It almost didn't matter if they composed themselves. Anyone with eyeballs could quickly figure out what they'd been up to. Rick's face was beet-red, his lips were bee-stung and both of them had hair that was all over the place. Still, Michonne knew it wouldn't do for the kids to catch them with his shirt off and her's very nearly so in the middle of the den. She smiled at the condition of them both.

"Ten to midnight," Rick answered checking his watch before pulling his own sweater back on.

"Already?" She said stunned.

All their guests had left an hour and a half ago to go tuck their kids into bed in preparation for Santa Claus but Michonne's were still downstairs playing video games. Despite all Rick's influence, Michonne still wasn't the best at the Christmas stuff. When she heard the footsteps reach the landing she stood quickly and took a step back from the couch clumsily, just barely sidestepping the coffee table. Rick smiled at her sudden awkward modesty.

"Oh be quiet," She whispered to his smug face.

His eyes gleamed with mischief but he threw his hands up in surrender. "I'm not saying anything. Your face says it all, believe me."

Michonne turned away just as Carl came past the arched entryway to the den. Her face felt flush and hot just like the rest of her. She was so embarrassed suddenly. She walked over and fiddled with the ornaments on their gigantic tree as a distraction.

"Jude fell asleep down there. I figured I should bring her up." Carl told them in a hushed tone.

"Go ahead and leave her here, we'll go tuck her in in a minute." Rick instructed Carl behind her in a quiet voice.

"Can you tell Andre I'm giving him another ten minutes before it's his turn," Michonne added with her back still to him. "But come back before you head off to bed. I still have need of your professional wrap skillz, Carl Poppa."

She laughed at her own corny joke glancing back quickly at Carl holding Judith's sleeping body over his shoulder. But he wasn't looking at her, he was whispering with his father as he handed his little sister off to him.

Michonne listened for Carl's steps going back down the stairs before rushing to the window. She threw it open and grabbed a handful of snow from a pile on the sill. They'd had quite a storm the night before that blanketed the whole city in snow...just in time for a wonderfully white Christmas. Now she used it for the PG version of a cold shower.

"Are you okay?" Rick asked amused from his spot on the couch. "Nice to know I have this kind of affect on you."

"Yeah, don't flatter yourself," She said but still rubbed the fresh snow on her face and neck. The icy sensation on her cheeks barely counteracted the heat that radiated from her. She knew to her chagrin, Rick was right. Only he did that to her, made her feel like her flesh was on fire every time he touched her.

"Just tell me when he's coming back upstairs," She whispered to him.

"What _are_ you doing, woman?" He asked watching her.

"Are you watching?"

"Yeah," He answered easily but grinning devilishly at her when she turned quickly to look at him. There was a twinkle most definitely in his eye as he spoke. She smiled back thinking again of how lucky she was. "But is this mature?"

"Says the man who spent the last forty-five minutes making out with me on the couch like we're two kids in the backseat of a Camaro," Michonne said amused. "Just make sure you tell me when he's on his way back, _Adult_."

"Okay, okay," Rick whispered a minute later. "He's coming,"

The sounds of Carl's feet resounded on the creaky hardwood stairs and a moment later he was again standing in the archway of the den. He tossed something small to his father as he came into the room and walked to near where Michonne stood at the tree.

"What else is there to wrap?" He asked looking down at the heap of colorfully wrapped boxes that surrounded the tree.

Michonne looked at him with his shaggy dark hair falling into his bright blue eyes and she was so happy she'd been here to watch him grow. Even if it had just been for the past few years as he was turning from boy into man. It had been such a pleasure to know him, to see what a wonderfully good heart he had and what a credit to his father he was.

"Sooo," She started standing right in front of him with her hands behind her back. "Judith's hair was wet tonight."

Carl smiled and then shook his head, eyes downcast as if he was recalling a particularly pleasant memory.

"Do you know why that would be a source of concern to me given that she's just getting over a cold?" Michonne said seriously, to which the smile slipped from Carl's face and he looked up at her.

She looked over and saw Rick following the conversation carefully. They exchanged a brief look and Michonne winked at him quickly.

"Well," Carl started reluctantly. "We, um, Dré and I, we—"

"Did this?" Michonne said as she brought what she'd been holding behind her back forward: a large snowball made up of snow she'd gathered from the sill. Before he had time to react, she brought it over and put it right on top of Carl's head before rubbing it in. "Yeah, she told me."

Carl gasped then howled as behind him his father broke out in an enormous grin followed closely by a guffaw. The snow melted through his hair, running over his ears and down the sides of his face to fall in large slushy clumps onto his shoulders and down to his feet.

"So...yeah," Michonne laughed. "No more picking on your little sister, m'kay?"

"Geez, Dré helped." Carl added wiping the dripping water out of his eyes.

"Oh don't you worry about Dré, he'll get his too," She promised then screeched when Carl grabbed her suddenly by the upper arms and shook his wet hair in her face. He released her and ran for the other window, opening it and swiping fresh snow from the pristine sill.

"Don't you dare!" Michonne warned as Carl held a ball of snow to lob at her. "Not in this house!"

He paused, measuring the seriousness of her warning.

"Do you know what my grandma used to say?" She asked. "She said, 'It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye!'"

Carl puzzled at her non sequitur for a moment. "I don't get it. How do we always jump to losing an eye?"

"You do anything but gently put that snow back outside where you found it and we'll find out together," Michonne said with a evil smile.

She looked at Rick as he remained sitting smugly on the couch, watching the contretemps play out with a huge grin on his face.

"What are you guys doing?"

As if they'd called him, André came to the mouth of the den then with a smile already on his face and brightened more when he saw what was going on. Michonne saw as Rick grabbed him quickly and said something in his ear that sent him running toward the kitchen.

In her moment of distraction, Carl rushed her. As she hollered irrespective of the time or Judith sleeping nearby, he wrapped his arms around her as if he was hugging her and slapped the icy ball right on the back of her sweater. The wet slush seeped through the layers of fabric into her bare skin as she struggled with boy who had only just recently grown tall enough to overpower her.

_Time flew._

"Aaah!" Michonne screamed feigning anguish, although, the snow _was_ icy cold. "That's it! Forget college, it's military school for you! Pack your bags. You're goin'!"

When he finally released her, Michonne saw Judith had woken up. She sat up at her father's side as Michonne and Carl watched, hushing each other. Her face wore the groggy confusion of sleep and her hair stuck straight up like it had been teased out by porcupine quills. She looked at the chaos around her.

"Daddy, what's happening?" She asked Rick innocently and they all cracked up laughing at her expense.

André reentered the den right then making a direct line for the coffee table in front of Rick and Judith. He put a piece of paper on the table between them smoothing it out on the surface. Michonne came closer as Rick reached back to grab a pen from the console table behind the couch.

"Wait, wait, don't cross it out yet," Michonne objected.

Officially, it had been agreed that the family Christmas party that evening was to be the culminating event and fulfillment of Michonne's wish on their bucket list. But the night and all the days they'd spent together previously had spoiled her, making her greedy. _She wasn't ready for it all to end yet._

"Not yet," She pled.

Rick's hand hesitated as they all huddled together, André bent at the waist with his hands on his thighs, Judith now sitting on the floor at her father's feet, Carl knelt at Michonne's side as if they were reviewing a game plan. Michonne nearly laughed at the children's serious expressions. Since its inception they'd all taken the list so incredibly seriously. Michonne had almost told Sasha that earlier, but there was no way to do that without sounding like she was bragging, even though it was true.

"Okay." He said with a light chuckle.

Rick's hand slid up two lines to his own item on the list, starting to cross it out before Michonne stilled him, putting her hand over his. "Hey, you can't do that. We haven't done yours yet. The rules say we can't cross it out before it's done."

"You're so hard to please tonight," He said teasingly then he dropped the subject completely and put the pen down. "So...how about we do _this_."

Michonne looked at him askance. As she watched, he pulled the small thing Carl had tossed to him earlier out from between the cushions at his side and put it on the table. It was a small black velvet box. He slid it toward her as she tried to make heads or tails of it.

She gasped before looking up at the assortment of faces smiling broadly back at her.

"How 'bout it? Michonne Hill, will you 'Make my Christmas wish come true' and marry me?"

Michonne choked back a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. After a moment of utter shock, she laughed nearly hysterically and cried a little too. She brought her hands up to cover her face briefly, squeezing her eyes shut._ This was so very far from that first painful Christmas she and André spent together alone without his dad._ Michonne felt Carl's hand on her back soothing her. Finally, she wiped her face, pushing the happy tears back and looked to see four pairs of eyes looking back at her expectantly.

"_Oh my god_, I forgot to say yes! Of course!" She jumped to her feet at the same time Rick did and they embraced over the table. A minute later, he crushed her in his arms and dragged her to him clumsily over the table as Judith screamed delightedly clapping and the boys beamed.

Michonne took Rick's face in her hands and peppered it with small kisses. "Was this you or them?"

His face grew red as if he were blushing. "A bit o' both really...they were tired of us living in sin, I guess. But _this _was definitely my Christmas wish, hands down."

"You didn't even look at the ring!" André said standing on their other side holding out the open box. The ring inside sparkled in the twinkling light cast by the Christmas tree. "I helped pick it out."

Michonne's eyes watered again as she looked down at her son. "It's gorgeous."

She let Rick slip it onto her finger as the kids "ohhh'd and ahhh'd" and chattered amongst themselves excitedly, already in the nascent phases of planning a wedding..._for next Christmas_.

"How in the _world_ did Christmas become my favorite holiday?" Michonne whispered into Rick's lips as chaos reigned around them.

_No one was going to sleep anytime soon now, s_he realized with a sigh.

Michonne kissed her sexy fiancé deeply then, while the others were distractedly talking, throwing her whole arm over his shoulder and pulling him close.

"Easy," Rick answered pulling her up onto her tiptoes so they were nose to nose. He looked over the entirety of her face adoringly, as if he could devour her. "Mr. Christmas and his little elves finally made a believer out of you."


	3. Someone to Dance With

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't be Christmas if everything went perfectly for Michonne Hill. Why should her wedding day be any different? Part of the Richonne Writing Network 2018 Holiday Series.

_It was not actually physically possible that this dress had gotten tighter since two days ago, was it?_

Michonne Hill pondered that as she held her breath. At the same time, her best friend Sasha Williams Ford blew out a frustrated one. Sasha took a moment before trying with the zipper again. Michonne looked into her friend's face through their reflections in the mirror and smiled feebly.

Sasha fixed her face quickly as she looked up and saw Michonne eying her with concern. She leaned her shoulder into the center of Michonne's back and pulled at the zipper. The bones of Michonne's corset bit into her ribs. But just as it had a moment before, it got to the center of her back before refusing to budge further.

"Is it possible they gave you the wrong dress?" Sasha asked, gritting her teeth and screwing up her ruby red-lipped mouth in extreme exertion.

Michonne glanced down at the slender silver watch –a gift from her wonderful fiancé– which dangled loosely from her wrist.

_Yet another thing that didn't fit today._

Turning the face up to read it, she saw that this was minute number twenty-three in their ongoing struggle with the dress. The first five minutes had been funny, made even more so by the half-full champagne flutes they imbibed between attempts. Minutes six through fifteen, had been filled with laughter too, but of the more nervous variety as it became clearer that the dress was being more resistant to closing itself around Michonne's figure than it had been during her recent fittings. The last eight minutes, however, had been a tense affair where no one spoke, only huffing and puffing, and silently grimacing to pretend that the mutual exertion wasn't taking a toll.

"I don't think so," Michonne answered simply. That was an understatement, there was no way this dress belonged to _anyone_ else. She'd been sure of that.

_This is what she got for her vanity._

Michonne could have picked other dresses, simpler dresses, _roomier_ dresses, differently-styled dresses, dresses made of more forgiving fabric but all without the striking silhouette this one had. When she'd first spotted the mermaid-style, platinum on winter white brocade silk dress, she knew she had to have it.

Getting married during the dead of winter was bad enough, definitely a less orthodox choice but getting married on Christmas Day itself was possibly just a little crazy. But that's what their kids had wanted and more importantly, that's what her fiancé had wanted. Being far more into the whole Christmas season thing than she'd ever been before she met him, for Michonne, it made a deeply ironic kind of sense. A symbolic gesture to both her man and the fates that had brought them together. And this dress, with its stiff and heavy but intricately embroidered and sparkly brocade, spoke directly to that psychic and emotional transition.

_If she was going to marry "Mr. Christmas" himself, Rick Grimes, she reasoned, she would need to look the part._

And this dress was exquisitely, perfectly, even spectacularly of the season. Dusted with almost metallic threading that gleamed in some lights, a form-fitting bodice that clung to her curves, and an off-the-shoulder, sweetheart neckline that made her look swan-like, it showed off her sculpted arms and shapely figure to their best effect. Her décolletage looked amazing, showcasing just enough to keep things interesting without being too revealing, while her hips and bottom looked molded into the fabric, both high and firm enough to snap a coin off. When she looked at herself, Michonne felt like she was a Christmas present herself, wrapped up like a gorgeous holiday bow–_a Mrs. Claus even_–if Mrs. Claus was not only Santa's wife but also the patron saint of the season.

Seeing herself, Michonne was reminded of the old Marilyn Monroe chestnut about having been sewed into her dramatic dress for JFK's birthday. And although Michonne had a bit more freedom of movement than she imagined that blonde bombshell did, she felt just as beautiful and desirable. _So what if the waist was a little extra cinched? And who cared that its structured design made good-posture essential and relaxing impossible? Wasn't it irrelevant that the fabric was unyielding and the whole thing was completely unforgiving of even an extra pound in the wrong place?_ When a dress looked as good on you as this dress looked on Michonne, it was worth it. And this dress was made for her, both literally and figuratively. She was certain of it.

_No, this was her dress._ She and the kids had dubbed it her "Snow Queen" dress.

Sasha sighed heavily and let go, taking a step back to eye the problem. "I don't want to pull on it too hard and rip the zipper or the seams. Where's a good old hook-and-eye closure when you need one," She joked clearly attempting to keep her tone light.

She grabbed her nearly empty champagne flute and took another swig before crossing her arms over her chest.

"I deliberately told them I wanted an invisible zipper, I didn't want to be in here all day trying to fasten a million hooks or buttons," Michonne screwed up her face as if she was delivering the world's worst punchline.

"More like you didn't want _Rick_ having to fight with a million hooks tonight," Sasha replied, raising one elegantly arched eyebrow at her friend.

"_Girl!_"

They were silent for a moment before both bursting into peals of naughty laughter. Her friend knew her far too well.

_That's what decades of acquaintance got you._

"What the hell are we gonna do?" Michonne asked finally after stopping herself in fear of bursting through the already strained seams. She spoke in a whisper looking around the bridal suite although no one else was there.

Their makeup artist was already gone, Michonne's older sister Roberta had left to walk their mother to her seat and her step-daughter, Judith and Sasha's daughter, Miranda were off helping the boys with usher duties down the hall. They were alone, free to panic openly if they wanted. But still, Michonne struggled to keep it together. Since she had chosen to only have a matron of honor and no other attendants, this was a conundrum she and Sasha would clearly have to tackle on their own.

Michonne sat down carefully in the plush chair in front of the lighted vanity, dejected. The dress seemed to undo itself as she hunched in her seat, the zipper sliding slowly down her back and loosening all over until the whole back was open again. The sensation was enough to make Michonne want to cry, which she'd been doing a lot of lately. Everything seemed to make her feel so emotional and just a little bit maudlin. But she wouldn't cry, she resolved, if only so as not to ruin her freshly applied makeup. It wasn't as if this was a complete surprise anyway –they'd even had to take out the dress a little at her last fitting– but it was still dismaying. It felt like all her hard work was falling apart.

_She should have accepted those water pills Roberta offered her last week. _She lamented._ Although something about that hadn't felt right at the time, but maybe it had been a mistake?_

"Mich, it's just a dress," Sasha said as if reading her mind. "Rick would marry you in a burlap sack."

"If we don't get this dress zipped, he might have to!"

Sasha shook her head taking on the serious face she got when she had a particularly complex case or faced a trying adversary in the courtroom. "We'll figure something out if we have to staple you into it."

Michonne smiled weakly at that and buried her face in her hands.

"It's the stress. I've been stress eating. First, it was trying to sell the house, then the move. My God, I had no idea one man and two children could have so much stuff! Then all that construction while planning a wedding. Some days, I wouldn't eat at all, some days I ate anything that wasn't nailed down. Especially these last two months? I ate all the kids' leftover Halloween candy..._by myself!_ It's been a lot."

"Yes, it has. Abe and I just looked at each other when you guys would talk about it all and marvel. Just planning a trip for us requires marriage counseling. To go visit his family in Texas for Thanksgiving nearly had me shopping for divorce attorneys. Now, you tell me, does 18 hours trapped in a car with a 10-month-old prone to motion sickness and an eight-year-old with the attention span of a squirrel sound like a solid plan to you? Of course not! But suggest to my husband that we've gotta fly there and watch him put his affairs in order, increase his life insurance policy and write out a will..." Sasha grumbled.

Michonne smiled into her palms and shook her head before lifting it out of her hands to glance across at her friend, who continued to gripe.

"...but Michonne, really, why I gotta explain that flying is statistically safer than driving to a 44-year-old man? What am I saying? He's a grown man who can't take his daughter to the supermarket alone because those two knuckleheads will argue over who gets to push the cart until they crash it into a cereal display!"

Michonne chuckled, remembering that story.

She listened, fully aware that Sasha was doing this all for her benefit, as a distraction to get her mind off the growing disaster that was her and this dress. She caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror as her friend talked, and peered at herself critically.

_Was she entirely too old for this? Was it all ridiculous? Who was she kidding? Would Rick laugh at her with this Christmas Beauty Queen schtick?_

Lifting her chin slightly, she regarded herself, suddenly concerned that with all the recent eating, she was beginning to see a double chin...or were those shadows cast by a trick of the light? The truth was she was feeling kind of fluffy, her bits a little fuller here and there. Maybe even a bit sluggish and low energy recently. It was odd. She looked down at her cleavage in the reflection, there a small, simple pear-shaped blue sapphire pendant hung, nearly lost in the swell of her breasts. Rick certainly hadn't complained about it, but it seemed to her she was quite _ample_ lately. But, especially in this dress, anyone could look buxom. Although honestly, it was happening in all of her clothes of late.

With an appraising eye, she looked over the smooth expanse of her dark skin that was accentuated by the crisp, brightness of her dress and she wasn't ashamed to admit at least that one thing was still working. It looked luminescent, flawless. Her brown skin glowed, a smooth ebony, that was sensuous, to the point that even Rick had remarked of how she was looking particularly fresh-faced and gorgeous.

_And the dress highlighted all of it. Or at least, it was supposed to._

That had been the plan after all. To knock him on his ass. To look like the best Christmas present he'd ever gotten. To make him thank the heavens that he'd chosen her one brutally cold night to share his nana's special hot cocoa with. Michonne had wanted him to look up the aisle and know that as much as he already loved it, no Christmas would never be the same again. Instead, she was going to have to waddle her roly-poly self down the aisle in her new robe that said "Wifey" on the back and the pair of fuzzy bunny slippers she had on that Judith had given her as a Christmas gift.

"Knock-knock," The door to the suite opened hesitantly and a second later two heads peered in.

Michonne and Sasha both looked up and spun in their seats simultaneously as their friend and Michonne's neighbor, Carol walked in holding Sasha's baby daughter, Lila, followed by Roberta.

Sasha rose quickly from her seat, her face a question mark going to them and reaching for her small daughter.

"Abraham's outside but was afraid to knock. He said Lila was getting fussy and needed her mama." Carol explained, handing her off. "I remember when my Sophia was that age. No arms but mine would settle her if she got going."

"She's teething," Sasha explained apologetically taking her daughter with a frown and heading into the hall to consult with her husband.

Michonne watched as the chubby little girl sucked vigorously on her fingers, drooling as her mother took her out of the room. She remembered fondly what Andre had been like at that age too. Mike couldn't pass him off to her fast enough back then. The memory filled her with such warmth. She turned then to see her sister watching her watch Lila with a knowing smile. Michonne was surprised, but also a little bit relieved to see her again.

"Mommy sent me back to make sure you were still okay?" Bertie explained. "She told me to bring you her safety pins."

Michonne could have cried again right then. _Damn, her hormones were all over the place!_ But her mother's ability to read a situation at a glance, and sometimes, like this one, even without a glance was unrivaled. She grabbed at the top of her dress and hoisted it up as she stood, making her way over to her sister, tripping over the long gown.

"It won't close," Michonne explained, turning her back to her sister and her neighbor so they could see what she was talking about.

For the next five minutes, Michonne stood patiently and grunted through both women's individual and collective attempts to get the zipper up her back. They pushed and pulled as Michonne sucked in every part of herself she could, she held her breath and held herself ramrod straight, fruitlessly. For every inch of progress they made, inevitably it was reversed every time she exhaled.

"Progress?" Sasha asked hopefully when she walked in again, noticeably absent her daughter.

They all turned to give her identical dejected expressions.

"I went to see if the reverend's wife had anything. You'd think a venue as nice as this one might have something even."

"Like what? A spare dress service?" Michonne asked snarkily.

Sasha made a face while Roberta snickered.

"Listen, I can go see if anyone else has something. You never know. I used to carry around a small sewing kit in my purse when Sophia was little," Carol offered then.

"Unless a seamstress comes with it, I don't know how much that will help, but sure." Michonne sulked and shrugged at the time.

She checked her beautiful new watch again. It was now a quarter after six. _They were in minute forty now._

* * *

Rick Grimes checked his watch. His nerves felt frayed in a way that startled him. Intellectually, he knew for sure that he was getting married today but he'd inherited a little of his fiancée's cynicism or better yet, realism...and he knew despite that surety, anything could still happen.

A second later, he checked his waistcoat again, feeling for the golden bands sitting in the pocket. He smoothed down the fabric and sighed when he felt them before straightening his bowtie and then shoving his hands back into his blazer pockets. It was weird, suddenly he didn't know what to do with his hands. He stood at the mouth of the great room, near the top of the aisle, looking down toward the altar where the minister and Rick's best man/son Carl and soon-to-be step-son, Andre stood waiting and laughing together.

For some reason, Rick hadn't wanted to wait in the makeshift nave as men do normally. So, he stood near the door as if guarding the exit. Keeping people in or people out, he wasn't yet certain. It gave him a prime spot to watch as guests came and went and had allowed him to personally greet each and every wedding guest who had entered. That wasn't his intention but it beat standing at the end of the aisle waiting for the show to get on the road. And considering people were taking time out of their own Christmases to come and celebrate with him and his family, it felt like a nice touch.

Technically, the wedding should have started twenty-five minutes earlier, but Rick was no newbie. He couldn't recall the last time he'd attended a wedding that started exactly on time. He walked out of the great hall where the ceremony would take place into the large atrium of the old building. He looked around for a minute, getting his bearings. Built in the mid-seventeen hundreds, the old colonial mansion was now home to the historical society and a local museum that provided amazing views of the city glittering below it. But tonight, the interior views were breathtaking as well.

For their wedding and the season, the entire lobby was festooned in sparkling ornaments and tiny white lights. There was fresh aromatic pine garland lining the balustrade of the gigantic main staircase and the balcony railings of the entire second floor. A nine-foot gold and silver decked tree stood in one corner of the atrium. An enormous brick fireplace roared with life and the dark, polished walnut-paneled walls gleamed, projecting a soft golden glow throughout the rooms. Their four-tiered wedding cake sat upon the grand piano just off the ballroom where the reception would take place. It all gave the space the perfect mix of a cozy yet spectacular atmosphere that seemed to exemplify the season. Rick nodded to himself, confident in the fact that he and Michonne had made a good decision in choosing this historical site for their special day.

"You scared to do it again?" A voice coming up behind him asked, breaking into his long thoughtful silence.

Rick blinked and turned to a man standing suddenly at his side. Abraham Ford had appeared out of nowhere bouncing his daughter on his hip. The adorable little girl smiled at Rick with a toothless grin. Rick loved them at this age, chubby and drooling, with big heads, lots of curls and huge eyes, just brimming with personality that they couldn't yet express verbally.

"Scared to do what again?" Rick asked unclear about what Abe referred to but surprised by the prescience of the question anyway. He bent slightly and shook Lila's caramel brown, little drool-slick hand as the small girl giggled merrily.

"_Commit._ Get married again. Say, 'This is it for me, _she's_ it and I can make her happy'," Abe clarified.

Rick looked at him and his daughter carefully. They had become friends initially because his girlfriend and Abe's wife were very close friends but over the past five years, Rick had become quite fond of Abraham himself. He was a big, barrel-chested, beast of a man, with a gruff demeanor but the heart of a teddy bear, especially around his wife and kids. He also had a great sense of humor and told a mean joke, most often at his own expense. More often than not, in fact, Rick found that Abe was joking even when he didn't crack a smile. Particularly when it served to lighten a mood, Abe loved messing around. Right then though, Rick wasn't sure if Abe was joking or not. Because for the first time that Rick could recall, Abraham seemed entirely serious.

"'Cuz I was. Man, was I," Abraham admitted while making faces for Lila to entertain her. "First time I did it, I was so young, shotgun, you know? The Missus had a bun in the oven, I was 21, headed into the Army. It seemed like the right thing, the responsible thing."

Rick nodded.

_He'd heard some of this before but not all of it._

He knew, for example, that Abe had kids a bit older than Carl that only came around occasionally and it was a source of great pain to him. It was a shame too because Abraham so clearly doted on his children. He was one of the best and most fiercely protective fathers Rick had ever met...yet he was also obviously and humorously completely wrapped around his daughters' fingers. The Ford girls got away with murder while Abe stood around and watched or occasionally, acted as their cheering section.

"...But I also did it because I thought I was in love." Abe continued with his odd confession as Lila grabbed at her father's mustache.

"Ten years and a nasty divorce later, I realized I had made a hash of it all. The truth was, I had had no idea what love was. Not real love. And by the time I finally met Sash, I wasn't sure I had it in me to try again and risk possibly fuc—" Abe looked down at his daughter then. "Um, _fudging_ it up again. I was terrified to let this beautiful, vibrant young woman with her whole life ahead of her take a chance on an old, ginger dope like me. But I was also scared to let her go without at least trying. I didn't think I could do it again, but luckily she knew I could. And thank God I learn quick, 'cuz she was right. She's always right. Remember that: _they're always right."_

Rick laughed almost in spite of himself realizing that this was Abraham's attempt at words of encouragement. He cupped his hands over his face and then revealed it, playing peek-a-boo with the baby as he contemplated her father's words. She giggled riotously, nearly jumping out of her father's arms and into Rick's.

He remembered fondly when both Carl and Judith had been that age. The two experiences had been distinctly different, but both were terrifying and thrilling simultaneously. With Carl, Rick been a first-time father and completely green, terrified he'd screw something up and break his infant son. With Judith, however, he was newly widowed, blindsided and overwhelmed, unmoored by a grief that he couldn't allow himself to wallow in. Both times had been daunting tests of his mettle as a man and father, still, in the end, he wouldn't trade either experience.

_So yes,_ he realized, _he was scared to do something equally as scary again. Definitely._

But he would do it. Taking this leap with Michonne was something he _had_ to do. And he knew it was something he _could_ do because he'd already faced his fears as a man, things that were just as formidable yet rewarding ultimately and he had succeeded. Now, he would never have it any other way.

"Yep." Rick answered confidently then, suddenly aware that though he didn't know what type of "pep talk" this was or even if it was actually supposed to be one, it was working.

He smiled at his friend, Abraham, the sage.

"Point is, Rick, Michonne's a woman very much like like my Sash, brilliant, beautiful, accomplished and they could have had anyone they wanted. And yet they chose _us_."

Rick nodded silently acknowledging Abe's words while he mulled them.

"We're lucky they found us. I know it."

He remembered how many days he had watched Michonne hustling herself and Andre in and out of their neighboring limestone row house wishing for the nerve to just say something, anything aside from their customary "hellos" and "goodbyes" before he actually spoke to her. He remembered how many times her wanted to tell her how lovely he thought she was when all she was talking about was the weather. And he recalled all the times he tried to work up to a coffee or dinner invitation when they ran into each other at Carol's regular block association get-togethers.

"And they don't make those decisions easily, I know that..." Abe stated that as fact.

_Rick also knew it to be true._

A full year after his neighbor and friend Mike's death when the idea of asking her out first came to Rick's mind, it all still seemed too fresh —the loss, for the both of them— to attempt it. Later, Michonne had just seemed too preoccupied, too focused and really too withdrawn for him to put it all out there. As a result, another year and a half went by before he found her waiting, virtually outside his front door, as if Santa had finally heard his very adult prayers and given him the one thing he'd truly asked for. And now, five years almost to the day, it was only fitting that Michonne should marry him at Christmas.

_Nope, he knew Michonne was a catch and he was more than ready make this official._ Rick didn't need anyone to remind him how lucky he was and how well things had worked out for him.

Rick smiled to himself, and the big guy with the small baby standing next to him smiled back with self-satisfaction.

"Yeah," Rick nodded again, concurring. "I do too."

"We're a coupla very lucky sonsabitches if you ask me. Yes, we are!" Abraham shook the babbling baby, to her delight, and spoke in a soft, singsongy voice for her benefit. But the words were directed at Rick.

"We are." Rick chuckled at father and daughter, exhaling some of that pent up nervous energy that had been plaguing him nearly all day.

"Don't I know it," Abraham leaned back, rocking on the heels of his dress shoes and raising Lila, in her frilly dress, up over his head. Abe nodded at her and as he did it, she screeched with excitement as Rick looked on grinning widely.

Just then, Carol passed Abe's other daughter, Miranda crossing paths in the hallway in front of both men but going in opposite directions with similar urgency.

"Oop, duty calls, I'm the designated kid wrangler tonight," Abraham announced giving Rick a quick but firm rap on the shoulder before hustling down the hall after his other daughter. "Randa! Where are you going with those keys? Are those _Daddy's_ car keys?"

Rick turned and followed Carol with his eyes. He watched as she consulted with her daughter Sophia, sitting among the guests, and then saw when Sophia leaned forward to whisper to their neighbor Nora. Soon, it looked like every woman who lived on the 300-block of Arlington Street was digging hurriedly through their purses and clutches.

After a minute, during which they all seemed to come up empty, Carol walked back down the center aisle past Rick.

"Everything okay?" He asked surprised by how rattled he again felt so quickly. _What the hell was going on?_

"Everyone's hunky-dory, Handsome." Carol winked at him not even pausing in her stride past, but still giving him a near identical pat on the shoulder to Abraham's as she went.

Rick had a moment of indecision before deciding to follow her… at a distance.

* * *

There was another firm rap at the door that Sasha opened quickly.

"Any luck?" Sasha asked with eagerness, to which Carol shook her head.

"Nope. I blame tiny purses. You can only carry around the essentials now."

"What are you gonna do?" Judith raised her head from Michonne's lap briefly to ask.

Michonne looked down at her soon to be step-daughter and stroked Judith's head. She'd come in with Miranda a few minutes earlier and was now fully engrossed in the turn of events that had bored the other, younger girl. She and Michonne sat side by side on the large couch opposite the door. The young girl looked expectantly at the adults in the room waiting for a resolution to the new drama. Michonne realized then she was waiting for that too and all they had now was another cliffhanger. _Would Michonne Hill, previous holdout and all-round grinch, but recent convert to the Christmas spirit, be completely and totally thwarted by fate…?_ It was stupid, she knew, no one was dead or dying and thus it wasn't that serious and yet it was hard not to be morose when it seemed like she was again being mocked by this thing everyone else seemed to love.

_This was still not her season after all._

Mike had been the one who loved Christmas originally. He loved the songs and the smells, he loved how everyone smiled and gave each other glad tidings of the season. He loved the camaraderie and the spectacle of it. Shortly after they'd moved into their neighborhood, Mike was the one who took it upon himself to begin a friendly competition among neighbors for the best-decorated home. And through that competition, he'd become a friend and decorating rival to the guy next door, Rick. But that had been their thing, _Rick and Mike's_, and then later Mike's thing with their son Andre. It was not ever something Michonne participated in. She just hadn't ever felt that strongly about it. Having grown up in a family that preferred celebrating Kwanzaa, while keeping Christmas more about its religious implications...it just never thrilled her like it did others.

Then once Mike was gone, all the joy of the season went out of her and out of her life without him. She just couldn't be bothered to do more than the bare minimum. It went back to being just another day co-opted by corporations for commerce, a season that people used as an excuse to overindulge in every way possible and that her coworkers at her firm used as an opportunity to take advantage, because unlike them, she didn't mind working straight through it. Only for Andre did Michonne make any effort at all.

_...that is, until Rick re-entered her life._

"I don't know, Pumpkin," Michonne answered honestly then. "I might walk out there in my sweater and jeans or better yet, naked, I suppose."

Judith looked at her wide-eyed, taking her at her word, with a combination of thrill and shock. Michonne chuckled to herself and shook her head. Although there was definitely a time in her reckless youth when either option would have been viable, it wasn't today.

There was another knock a moment later. They all looked up.

"If that's my husband again, I swear…" Sasha groused, walking to the door and opening it. "I told him to go keep Rick occupi—"

She stopped instantly when the man himself stood on the other side.

"Rick!" Sasha cried startled and Carol moved quickly to block the visual path to his wife-to-be.

"This is bad luck, Dad!" Judith exclaimed, scolding.

"Too late for that," Michonne said to her with a resigned sigh.

"Oh Michonne, hush!" Bertie said, frowning at her slightly.

"I-Is everything okay?" Rick asked, attempting to peer cautiously over and around the other women. They all moved evasively to keep him from seeing anything. "'Cuz, we're running late."

"What are you doing here? Where's Abe?" Carol and Sasha asked simultaneously.

Michonne could barely see Rick herself between all the women in front of him, except for the elegant legs of his trousers and its neat little break over his dress shoes. The tiny glimpse she got of his face before her "squad" moved defensively to protect her from his line of sight was enough though. With just that brief view and hearing his voice, she knew he probably looked good enough to be in an issue of GQ, just good enough to eat.

Her stomach actually rumbled at the thought, reminding Michonne, she hadn't eaten at all that day to fit into the blasted dress._ At this point, she might as well send out for her new favorite: 20-piece McNuggets covered in Thousand Island and mixed with fries._

She jostled her daughter, who raised her little head and got to her feet as Michonne did, dragging her open dress up with her. As she rose, Bertie, Carol and Sasha jockeyed to further obstruct Rick's view of her, which was nearly impossible since she was taller than them and he was taller than all of them. But she realized quickly, he'd closed his eyes and placed his hand over them to prevent that. She could see him clearly though. She was right, Rick looked delectable. He'd gotten a haircut, short on the sides but still thick and wavy up top and a shave that left only the barest of his salt and pepper stubble remaining. His three-piece suit fit impeccably, with the white and platinum brocade waistcoat and bowtie that matched her dress peeking out from his black blazer. If things had worked as they were supposed to, they should have looked amazing together.

She sighed again heavily. _Of course, as usual, Rick looked great._ _It was like the season actually imbued him with superpowers._

"I don't know that it matters anymore, girls, let him take a good look at the Heffalump," Michonne sulked.

"Girl, hush. Self-pity is not a good look on a bride." Bertie said channeling their grandmother to Michonne's annoyance.

_If there was ever a moment to think the sky was falling, this felt like it._

"No, uh-huh, nope," Sasha said with adamance, pushing Rick back from the door with a firm palm square in the center of his chest. "This isn't settled yet."

"Everything is fine," Carol added to him. "Just like I said, Rick. Now, shoo!"

"Everything is _not_ fine!" Michonne amended, kicking at the bottom bouffant hem of her dress that she was still holding up, only by an arm wrapped around her midsection, as if to illustrate. "_This_ is not fine!"

Rick stepped forward again, his voice coated in concern. "Mich, honey?"

He spoke blindly still holding his hand over his face. Michonne watched then as he lowered his head and spoke in hushed tones with Roberta, Sasha, and Carol. They all whispered. It sounded like they were hagglers at a bazaar. Then a moment later, Sasha and Carol looked up and turned toward her and Judith.

_Whatever was decided, it looked like they'd lost to see their faces,_ Michonne thought.

"Jude baby, why don't you come with Aunt Bertie? We'll let your Mom and Dad have a couple of minutes alone," Bertie said gesturing toward Judith to come with them.

Michonne looked down at Judith, who had an arm tightly wrapped around her waist and leaned into her side right under Michonne's arm. "I'll see you in a few minutes. Go see what your brothers are up to."

"No peeking!" Carol admonished as she walked out behind Judith and Bertie, leaving Michonne standing directly in view of Rick.

"Go stand behind the door," Rick instructed, hand still shielding his eyes, looking at the ground and stepping to one side of the door as Michonne moved to the other.

Sasha gave Michonne a quick and encouraging squeeze as she walked out behind the small group.

Michonne leaned lightly against the door and could tell when Rick did the same on the other side.

"You okay?" He asked gently once they were entirely alone.

Michonne took a deep breath. It felt like they hadn't seen each other in days even though she just saw him yesterday. It felt like all they had done recently was talk about the wedding or the remodel on the house or the sale of Rick's house or the kids at school or Carl in college or one of a million other mundane concerns.

"Getting cold feet?" He asked, surprisingly calm for the nature of the question.

"Never," Michonne reached out past the door and in what she saw as a perfect metaphor for their relationship, Rick's hand instantly appeared to grasp it. He squeezed her palm and caressed her fingers with his own, intertwining them comfortingly.

"Are you?" She asked softly.

"Of course not," He said with the kind of certainty that one usually reserved for saying their own name. "And you're still feeling good about it?"

"I am now," She answered and realized at the same time that it was entirely true. She still didn't know what the hell she was going to do about the damn dress but she knew this was going to all work out somehow.

_With this man, it would._

Rick brought her hand up to his mouth behind the door and kissed the back of it, then her palm.

"Oh-ho, all the lights are shining, so brightly everywhere," Rick suddenly began to sing to her in his surprisingly melodic and clear tenor. "And the sound of children's laughter fills the air..."

Michonne rolled her eyes. "_You and this song._ I don't know why you sing it to me. I keep telling you: I really hate it!"

Yet, it was his favorite Christmastime song for some reason. He turned it up every time it played in its heavy seasonal rotation on the radio. And no amount of dissuading on her part seemed to be able to get Rick to drop it from his karaoke repertoire. Or stop him from singing it directly to her. _Every. time._

"...And everyone is singing. I hear those sleigh bells ringing." Rick continued undaunted as Michonne broke out in a smile against her better judgment. "Santa, won't you bring me the one I really need?"

A second later, she felt something in her palm. Pulling her hand back from the other side of the door, Michonne found his silk bowtie in her hand, "Wha—?"

"Won't you please bring my baby to meee?" Rick dangled his suit jacket past the door next.

"Rick Grimes, are you _stripping_ for me?" Michonne said flabbergasted as she took it from his hand. "_Now?_"

"If that's what it's gonna take for you to come outta here and marry me, then yeah." He spoke then. "We can do it in our street clothes, our skivvies. I really don't care, as long as we do it."

"I don't want a lot for Christmas. This is all I'm asking for," His voice rose confidently then as he went back to the song, belting out the rest like a troubadour. His voice resounded down the halls, sounding particularly melodious in the good acoustics of the building. "I just wanna see my baby, standing right outside my door."

"Rick," Michonne began, mortified.

"Oh, I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know," He went back to the chorus of the song loudly as Michonne stepped out from behind the door to see him, eyes squeezed shut, face filled with emotion, down on one knee, unbuttoning his waistcoat. "Make my wish come truuuee! Baby, all I want for Christmaasss, iiiis yoooouuu…"

"Ohhh baaaaby…." Behind him and down the hall, they both looked and saw a small crowd made up of some of their guests and the event staff watching him serenade her with delighted expressions. The teenaged waitstaff had chimed in with a sudden bright and sweet harmony.

"All I want for Christmas is yoooouuu… baaaaby!" They all finished like a choir, repeating it and clapping along with feeling as Rick belted out the lead. "All I want for Christmas is yooouuu, baaaby!"

"Rick!" Michonne laughed self-consciously, grabbing him by the shoulders and clumsily trying to get him back to his feet while still holding up her dress. The crowd cheered as they dispersed when Rick finally stopped singing and opened his eyes.

"Michonne..._My God_, you look..." He started as he got a good look at her, the words clearly caught in his throat.

Rick got back up quickly then and stepped back from her before slapping his hands over his eyes and looking down at the ground again.

"Shit, Babe, I wasn't supposed to see!" He panicked. "Damn! I'm sorry!"

"Rick, Rick," Michonne said soothingly. "It's okay. It doesn't matter. I'm over it."

Michonne realized suddenly then, _If this was the goofy, lovable, gorgeous guy she was lucky enough to be marrying today, she would willingly do it if only in her garter and corset—_

Suddenly, an idea came to her. Michonne jumped into his arms, grabbing him by his lapels and kissed him deeply to Rick's surprise.

"I'm so stupid! And you, my darling man, are brilliant!" Michonne said into his stunned face, wiping her lipstick from his lips with her thumb. "Go get your cute ass in position. Tell the girls to come back in here. I'll see you in ten."

Rick nodded stunned. "Well, I guess I'll need my jacket and tie back, then."

Michonne grabbed his suit jacket from the doorknob and helped him back into it. "I'm thinking you look cuter without the bowtie, actually."

"Okay, good note." Rick chuckled as he slipped his blazer over his shoulders and she straightened his collar, smoothing down his shirt.

Michonne gazed at him longingly in his delicious suit, lamenting the fact that they couldn't skip the whole ceremony thing altogether and move right along to the Honeymoon.

He winked at her seductively, reading her face before turning to walk back down the hall. "See you soon, Mrs."

"Can't wait!" Michonne grinned, excited for the first time all day to get down the aisle to him.

_She felt like she could sprint there now._

Michonne knew she loved that man more than words could say but finally, she was ready to glide down the aisle into his arms and profess it before friends and family.

* * *

_He was marrying a divine creature_, of that, Rick was suddenly certain.

It was very nearly more than his poor mortal heart could take right then. He brushed a tear from his eye with his thumb, undone by the magnitude of the moment. He knew that this wasn't Michonne's thing. Even the big wedding itself wasn't necessarily her style. So he was all the more moved by how seriously she had taken it all, every little thing, purely because of how much she knew Rick loved it. He knew she'd been driving herself crazy in the past few days, just to make sure everything was perfect and it was. He was happy. He felt like the luckiest man on the planet that she would go through all of it just for him. Even the way she looked at him right then, like he set the sun in the sky was enough to make his chest puff out and have him strutting around like a gamecock.

Rick looked over at their kids, each grinning widely, and knew they were as excited for this as he and Michonne were. It was all perfect, and he hoped Michonne recognized it. Everything imaginable could have gone wrong and he still knew it couldn't have been any better than this. _This moment, right now._

_He knew it._

What he didn't know was, what exactly he'd said to get Michonne to come out of her dressing room? He was fairly certain it wasn't his impromptu serenade, but whatever it was, he thanked God it worked.

Rick's chest constricted as he watched his gorgeous bride coming down the aisle toward him accompanied by her son. His heart thudded in his ears almost ringing. He was nervous again, he nearly shook with anticipation as she approached slowly. He thought she looked exquisite in her white gown. It was as perfect as he'd heard it was. And it was as if there had never been a question of the fit. Michonne even wore sprigs of mistletoe in her updone hair in yet another nod to his favorite season.

Even on an average day, Rick always thought Michonne looked amazing. As she ran around the house in the mornings in her business suits, rallying their troops to their assorted duties, school for the kids and work for him, she looked like the most powerful, sensual lawyer of all his dirtiest fantasies. Then, in jeans and a t-shirt rummaging around or running errands, she was magnificently sexy. And when she wore nothing at all but one of his shirts lounging in their bedroom with the Sunday paper, he thought she looked like the subject of a classical masterpiece in repose. But right then, walking down the aisle toward him smiling, a vision in silver and white with a wintery bouquet of sterling roses, Michonne looked like a goddess.

"Who gives this woman to be married to this man?" The minister asked, when they arrived, in a booming voice.

"Her family and I do," Andre said at the same time that Michonne spoke for herself as they had rehearsed.

"I do."

Rick smiled at them both as Michonne bent slightly to kiss her son's cheek, before turning back to face him. She gave her bouquet to Carl standing at his father's side, doling out another kiss to him as well. Rick took her hands in his then and she stepped closer to him grinning. She squeezed Rick's fingers, just like he often did to her whenever she got nervous.

"Hi," She rubbed her thumbs over the back of his hands. Instantly, he felt bolstered and moored by her strength and certainty.

"You look _amazing_," He whispered to her under his breath as the minister began to speak to the congregation. "What did you do?"

Michonne smiled, leaning forward and speaking breathily to him. "I followed your lead and just took some stuff off."

Rick looked down at her dress suddenly with understanding, a sly smile creeping over his face nearly identical to the one he saw on hers.

"Yep, it's just me, your tie and some fuzzy bunny slippers under this dress now. I just figured, '_Au naturel_, what the hell?'" She shrugged. "'The slippers can be my something new.'"

"And my bowtie?"

"Well, that is my something borrowed...and it makes for a nice bow for you to untie your present later." Michonne winked suggestively. "_Merry Christmas_."

Rick nearly burst out laughing in the minister's face. The reverend looked at them both with an amused forbearance and an arched eyebrow, never stopping his sermon.

_He adored this woman,_ Rick thought then.

But knowing how far they'd come, and how much she must have loved him to do all this, that was the real gift.

And for _both_ Rick and Michonne, understanding that starting today they had the rest of their lives together made this their best Christmas ever.


End file.
